


Cat Got Your Tongue

by fancywaffles



Series: Outfoxed [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Courting Rituals, First Love, First Time, Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Slow Romance, Those Who Slither in the Dark Do Not Exist (Fire Emblem), Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: Sylvain is overjoyed that Felix likes him even without the fox mask and tries to go slowly and respectful since this is Felix's first relationship. Felix has other ideas.(or, horny virgin felix would like to climb sreng sylvain like a tree)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Outfoxed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941637
Comments: 28
Kudos: 197
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Cat Got Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> This will make zero sense if you have not read [Fox on the Run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347994/chapters/61460800). 
> 
> For Sylvix week and for Fim and Mego who are the nicest and most encouraging people and have drawn the cutest things for Fox on the Run.

Felix was trouble.

Sylvain realized this on his first night seeing him again after returning from Sreng. He was realizing it more and more as each day passed. Sylvain was trying to go slow and at a pace that Felix felt comfortable at, because he knew other assholes had tried to worm their way past his defenses — and he did not want to be one of those assholes.

That and Felix was new at this. Even if Sylvain hadn’t known that, he would’ve picked up on it by the way his ears turned red when Sylvain took his hand. Or how he squirmed away from any compliment.

Sylvain wasn’t sure how exactly he was supposed to take it slow, however, when Felix kept dragging him into rooms to make out. He wasn’t made of willpower. At some point between frantic, harried kisses, Sylvain’s hand stretched the span of Felix’s back and wriggled its way into the inside of his shirt so he could get a feel for the skin underneath.

And Felix whimpered. He’d done it before and Sylvain refused to mention it, afraid he might stop doing it—which would be terrible, because it was the most perfect sound in the entire world.

Maybe they didn’t need to take it very slow. Glacial. Felix hated snow. They could move things along a little bit more. This was the kind of gibberish that Sylvain’s brain pretended was logic when he had his hands on Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

He wanted another whimper, which is what he thought he might get as he kissed the impossibly long column of skin that was Felix’s neck and brought his other hand down to squeeze him from behind.

What Sylvain got was a squeak. Sylvain pulled back and even in the dim lighting of the room, Felix looked bright red.

“We can slow down,” Sylvain said. That was a thing he was capable of doing, he was sure.

Except then Felix frowned at him and furrowed his eyebrows in that stubborn expression he used to get when they were kids. “No,” Felix said, and then dragged Sylvain down into another kiss.

 _Trouble_.

* * *

They never get far… farther than Sylvain expects—almost every time. Unfortunately in his haze of seeing Felix again after almost a decade apart, then accidentally pretending to be an entirely different person that Felix liked more than his actual self, and finally _fixing_ that horrible mess—Sylvain forgot he was actually on a schedule.

If he’d known the last week they had in Fhirdiad was going to be the last week they had alone for months, he would’ve gone a little less slow.

Felix actually pouted when Sylvain had to leave for another useless tour of pretending everyone in Faerghus didn’t already know who he was.

“I’ll write,” Sylvain said, and then when Felix was still pouting added, “using my own name.” He didn’t get the smile he wanted out of Felix, so he sighed. “Don’t fall for any other guys in masks while I’m gone.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Felix said and then somehow still pouting, rose up on his feet and kissed Sylvain in free view of all of the people that would _absolutely_ be getting that information back to their parents.

Did Sylvain think about this? No. He bit Felix’s lower lip that was jutted out and kissed him senseless until the coachman started harassing him instead.

* * *

The rest of the month and slightly into the next went so slowly that Sylvain seriously considered rolling out of the carriage and walking to the next stop, if only to have something to do. The one saving grace between visiting nobles (while biting back his thoughts and hiding them behind a stupid smile) were letters from Felix.

Sylvain had missed everything while he was gone and now that he had the chance to actually know what happened, he need to know all of it. He wanted to know every change Felix went through and what he’d done while Sylvain was in Sreng. And that was a lot easier to get out of him in letters and not when he was in front of Sylvain, looking like trouble.

Fódlan made it hard for Sylvain to be too specific in letters when Felix asked questions about _his_ life back home. Sylvain really wanted to answer, but he was paranoid something specific might be intercepted, interpreted badly, and then used against Sreng.

He’d written Eeija a few times, but so far hadn’t heard back from her. The post system was different at home so he couldn’t be sure they were even getting what he sent—or if they were, he couldn’t be sure that his Gautier family wasn’t keeping any return letters from him. Writing to Eeija was less censored at least, because Sylvain really didn’t care if anyone knew about Felix—and she’d heard him talk enough about Felix growing up that she probably wanted the updates.

He didn’t miss home as much when he was reading or responding to Felix’s correspondence, but he missed the hell out of them whenever he was visiting nobles and parading himself around like a fattened calf. Their reactions ranged from being surprised he was ‘civilized’ to being overly sympathetic about how terrible his hostage situation must have been.

It was a shame his father didn’t give a shit about Kleiman so it wasn’t a stop on his pointless tour. Sylvain would’ve enjoyed an excuse to challenge the spineless jerk—who’d been making Felix uncomfortable—to a dueling circle.

Sylvain did have to go through Charon, but found out no one really liked Hector either. They weren’t as open minded as Ingrid and Dimitri seemed to be, but at least his sister Cassandra seemed to respect Sylvain when he’d taken her up on offer to spar.

Between Faerghus and Felix, it was a good thing Sylvain had spent most of his time in Sreng training, since it seemed to be the easiest way to communicate and win people over.

Sylvain didn’t end up seeing Felix again until he returned to Fhirdiad for Dimitri’s birthday. It was… very much freezing outside, but he managed to convince Felix to sneak out of the overcrowded party that even the birthday boy seemed to hate. They went to the crabapple grove they used to sneak around in as kids.

It was snowing and way too fucking cold to do anything but kiss Felix, but it had been way too long without kissing Felix, so Sylvain wasn’t complaining.

“Are they done showboating you yet?” Felix asked, when they took a brief respite for air.

“No,” Sylvain said, sighing. “A few more to round out the month, but they didn’t want me missing the opportunity to ‘cultivate my friendship with the crown prince’ so short break.”

“How short?” Felix asked. His face was ruddy red from the cold and his lips were kiss bruised. His eyelashes were so dark against his skin. He stood out in the snow like an arctic cat that hadn’t shed its summer coat yet. His warm amber eyes were kind of catlike now that Sylvain thought about it.

Felix smacked him in the chest with a thudded, padded fist.

“What?” Sylvain hadn’t realized he’d gotten distracted.

“How long are you here for?” Felix asked.

“Till tomorrow,” Sylvain said, frowning.

Felix sighed and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “It’s cold, we should get inside.”

“Okay,” Sylvain said. He threw an arm around Felix’s shoulders, trying to bury him in any warmth he could force out of his own body and enjoyed the murmured thanks and pleased noise he got in return.

Sylvain left a note outside of Felix’s window before he had to leave (way too early in the gods-damned morning).

_‘You really do purr like a cat when you’re happy.’_

The next letter he got from Felix in response once he hit Gideon, was only two words, ‘ _Fuck off_.’ Sylvain grinned.

* * *

It was almost Felix’s birthday by the time the stupid tour was over.

Sylvain’s father was an immovable wall, but Sylvain had quickly picked up on the fact that his mother was very awkward around him. He thought at first it had been the same reason he felt awkward… time and distance. Then thought maybe she was worried her son was a savage. He realized pretty quickly that it was because she didn’t know how to talk to him and was walking on eggshells trying.

It was different in Sreng. Chabi would’ve told Sylvain straight out how she felt. Before he left, she’d grabbed his face in her hands and told him not to be stupid and that she’d miss him. (And he definitely waited until he was in the carriage and alone to cry about that.) Adelaide Gautier was an entirely different kind of mother—she pretty much embodied Faerghus repression.

Once he’d figured this out, it wasn’t really hard to use it to his advantage. He felt a little guilty about it, but less so when he casually mentioned that he wanted to visit Fraldarius and she immediately talked his father into it.

Felix’s mother, Hanna, hugged him again which was… weird, but not terrible. Felix’s father, Rodrigue, gave him what Sylvain was calling the Faerghus manly hand clasp—one hand on the shoulder, one hand to shake. It was so fucking strange, but seemed to be the thing to do with all the nobles that actually were making an effort to like him. That was a good sign.

He did not immediately push Felix into a wall and make-out with him, although the way Felix looked at him, he seriously considered it.

Unfortunately, Felix’s older brother Glenn was also looking at him.

Sylvain had to remind himself again that he was taller than Glenn (even if not by much) and had way more fighting experience in hand-to-hand than most Faerghuns. It didn’t stop the death glare in his gray eyes from being a little intimidating.

It lessened when Felix slapped his older brother in the stomach with the back of his hand. “Knock it off,” he hissed.

“Let me do my _job_ , shithead,” Glenn said back. They somehow both managed to hiss it loudly enough that Sylvain could hear, but low enough that neither of their parents seemed to pay attention.

Vague memories of Miklan floated to Sylvain’s brain and then were immediately crushed down again. (He knew Glenn wasn’t like that—if only because he’d not so subtly threatened to castrate Sylvain if he ever ‘used Sreng forthright affection’ on Felix again.) So instead he thought about how Eeija would’ve just called Sylvain a shithead loud enough for everyone to hear.

Tea was served—or at least what Faerghus called tea. Sylvain was so fucking tired of tea services, but decided to suck it up since at least he was near Felix.The tea… also didn’t smell bad actually. It had sort of a citrusy note that reminded Sylvain of something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Hanna was smiling at him. “Ingrid remembered you liked Bergamot."

“Where is Ingrid?” Sylvain asked. He took a sip and was surprised to find he actually did like it.

“Using Bebe to get out of social gatherings,” Felix said and Glenn punched him in the arm.

“Glenn,” Rodrigue scolded. His eldest didn’t seem too intimidated by it.

“She _is_ ,” Felix said, lowering his voice a little.

“Don’t be a snitch,” Glenn muttered at him, and then louder to the room. “I should probably check on her. You know… can’t be an unsupportive husband. I’ll bring some tea too… some of these uh…. actually it doesn’t matter what they are.” He grabbed a few of the sweets set out by the tea at random and wrapped them in a napkin to go with the cup of tea he poured. “Lovely seeing you again, Margrave and Margravine Gautier.” Glenn’s tone was cheerful and polite. Then he looked at Sylvain with the murder eyes again. “Sylvain.”

Felix tried kicking his brother as he left, but they must’ve had practice, because Glenn deftly avoided it. He didn't even drop the pile of sweets and tea in his hands. Decent reflexes, Sylvain would have to keep that in mind.

Felix took the opportunity after Glenn left to readjust himself on the couch, which meant he was sitting closer to Sylvain. Sylvain tried not to show how much he enjoyed that small gesture, but felt like his smile was glowing from the inside out.

“What was that about?” Felix asked.

“Vague protective brother threats if I touched you again—last time I was here,” Sylvain said, under his breath.

Felix looked annoyed. “I could’ve handled that myself.”

Sylvain tried covering his laugh with a sip of the tea, but failed. The face Felix made was a mixture of his previous annoyance and a little amusement. That was pretty great too.

Unfortunately, even with Felix next to him, tea dragged. The conversation was vague and boring. There was an attempt to include Sylvain in the mix (Felix was stubbornly avoiding it at all costs—but his leg was pressed firmly against Sylvain’s so not really a problem), but it faded quickly. Their parents started to talk of things that interested Faerghus parents—a variety of topics including pegasi breeding, territory mergers, and some gossip about an Alliance noble. Basically all things Sylvain could give two shits about.

Sylvain leaned in to Felix since their parents were distracted. “What do you want for your birthday?”

Felix stared at him and Sylvain was mid-sip of his second cup of tea when Felix—not one to ever mince words—said, “I want to have sex.”

Sylvain choked on his Bergamot.

“Are you all right, dear?” his mother asked, looking moderately concerned.

Sylvain pounded his fist into his chest and coughed. “Yeah, sorry. It went down the wrong pipe.”

Sylvain’s father looked less concerned. “If you paused between taking before sips, you wouldn’t have that issue.”

He didn’t even say it, but Sylvain could feel the hidden message of — those Sreng savages didn’t teach my son how to drink tea.

Possibly, if Sylvain been thinking about anything _other_ than what Felix just said, he’d be upset about that. And of course, now they held their parents attention again so he couldn’t follow-up on it.

“So,” Hanna said, drawing out the word as she lifted up her teacup. “Is there going to be an official courting interest or should we continue to pretend the gossip from Fhirdiad doesn’t reach this far?”

Felix went stiff next to him. His face was very red and it was insanely cute. “Mom!”

“If they want to be official, they’ll _ask_ ,” Sylvain’s father said, irritatingly reasonably.

Rodrigue rubbed his temple with his thumb. “It’s a little early for these kinds of discussions isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Sylvain’s mother asked.

Sylvain tried to keep his amusement to a minimum, especially since Felix looked like he was about to explode. “Felix was telling me about your stables,” he said. “You have some new foals?”

A silence encompassed the room, which meant that at least some of the people here realized this conversation topic wasn’t appropriate (at least to Felix).

They took to Sylvain’s subject change pretty quickly and he attempted to keep it that way for Felix’s sake. He joined in, since he was also kind of interested in it. He had been trying to get better at horseback riding for months, so learning anything about them was fascinating. It might have been his second favorite thing about Faerghus.

Felix stared at him, inscrutable. He stayed completely silent until muttering something about showing Sylvain the stables in person. Other than an incredibly knowing smile on Hanna’s face, none of their parents made much of a remark and let them leave without fuss.

Felix did not take Sylvain to the stables, he took him to his room. The door slammed shut and he groaned in frustration. “Why are they _like_ this?”

“Your mom seems to like getting a rise out of my father,” Sylvain said, but he was distracted by the fact that he was in Felix’s room.

The same room he’d been in hundreds of times—playing, sleeping, hanging around—when they were kids. The structure of it was the same, but everything was different. He couldn’t help but wonder when everything had changed and what he’d been doing in Sreng at the time. It felt like he’d lost something.

The shelves full of toys had been replaced by books and random clutter (why did Felix need a whetstone in his bedroom?) and the bed was bigger and had different sheets—no longer the soft blue and teal swirls that they used to pretend were the ocean when they played. The window treatments had changed at some point too, thicker and less bright. It felt so strange standing here. It was like he was in a place that was familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

“What are you doing?” Felix asked.

“Looking around,” Sylvain said, and then turned back to him. Felix had changed too, but Sylvain liked those changes. And Felix still looked a little flushed and flustered, so not everything changed. “Your birthday’s next week.”

“And?” Felix asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to appear unaffected.

Sylvain had talked up and charmed so many different people over the last month, but every time he saw Felix, he felt like his tongue was being weighed down and glued to his jaw. “You… want to have sex—next week?”

Felix looked behind Sylvain, in the direction of the bigger bed. “If you…” His hesitance shifted into defensive annoyance. “You seemed like you wanted to.”

That was one hell of an understatement. “I do, but I was trying to respect your boundaries. You seemed to be a little hesitant of people trying to bed you before. I don’t want to be one of those jerks.”

He still remembered the feeling of his stomach dropping when he saw that Kleiman asshole leaning into Felix’s space when it was clear Felix wasn’t having it. The fact that apparently that happened enough to make both Felix and Glenn defensive made Sylvain more than a little pissed off. 

“You’re not,” Felix said, frowning at him. “You _were_ ,” he added, but smirked a little as he said it. “You’re not now.”

Sylvain knew that… Felix had wanted to pretty much throw out his title when he’d thought Sylvain was some random commoner (‘Fox’) and had barely even seen his face. But he still—this was _Felix_ and even when he hadn’t been thinking about him in this way, he’d been thinking about him. Years of brushing off jokes about his ‘promised betrothed’ and then one night seeing him again and it _wasn’t_ like Sylvain’s world had turned upside down… it was more as if he’d gotten a different view of it and saw everything more clearly.

It had always been Felix.

 _Do things right or not at all._ Eeija loved to say (ironically usually while she was helping him redo something that he’d fucked up).

“How do you officially court someone?”

For some reason that made Felix more embarrassed than talking about sex with him did. “Why are you asking?”

“I would hope that’d be obvious.”

Felix stared at him. He looked like an arctic cat again, but one of the kittens that frozen in place if you spotted them outside of their mother’s den. Then he shook his head, walked up to Sylvain, and practically shoved him until he was sitting on Felix’s bed. “That stuff is stupid,” he said, and then crawled onto Sylvain’s lap.

Huh. Well. This was… Maybe he could get his answer later—

Sylvain dragged Felix into a kiss, getting his hands wherever he possibly could from this angle. That turned out to be a lot of Felix. It was one thing thinking about it for months, but actually getting to grab Felix at the waist, dig his thumbs into the divots where his hips sunk, and then pull him forward, was an entirely different experience in person.

Felix’s mouth was warm and wet and inviting. He wasn’t a timid kisser in the slightest—even that first night. After a bit of surprise, Felix always seemed to surge right into it, like he was facing a challenge and rising to it—fighting with lips, tongue, and teeth.

Sylvain took Felix with him as he fell backwards to a prone position on the bed, never letting their lips part. Felix didn’t seem to have any complaints following, merely readjusted himself once they were down so he was straddling Sylvain’s thighs.

Sylvain could put up with all the shitty tea in the world if it meant he could taste Felix like this. Small, little stuttering breaths, between an easy dance of their lips and tongue. He couldn’t resist sliding his palms up from Felix’s hips to the small of his back, drawing him closer.

Felix made a small perfect whimper against Sylvain’s mouth and writhed against him. It made it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing, but Sylvain was motivated to pay attention.

He loosened Felix’s shirt hem from his pants and then slipped his hands underneath, dragging the fabric up, so that Felix’s back and stomach were now exposed. Skin he’d been dying to touch and taste for weeks.

When he got his hands on Felix’s skin—he touched whatever part he could, reverently, drawing patterns on it with the pads of his fingers. Felix dug his own fingers into Sylvain’s shoulders in response, hard and a little desperate.

“Easy, Kitten,” Sylvain murmured against his neck.

Felix huffed in annoyance at the nickname—but as Sylvain tasted his pulse, the stuttering sounds in response Felix made really did sound like purring.

Sylvain was too focused (and happily so was Felix) to hear the door open. He barely heard the cough—until it was repeated loudly.

Felix shot up to sitting, his shirt awkwardly hanging half up and half down and Sylvain looked around him to see a bemused Glenn at the door. “I was told to let you know dinner is almost ready. Weirdly you weren’t in the stables.”

“Get the fuck out!” Felix said, and reached over Sylvain (giving him an incredibly close view of his bare torso that was going to haunt him if he didn’t get to taste it) to grab a pillow and throw it forcefully at Glenn.

The pillow came pretty close considering the angle he threw it at, but it still missed. Glenn laughed at him. “Alright I’ll just get Mom and she can give you the talk about prophylactics and safe sex.”

“Just—argh,” Felix dragged his shirt down and crawled off Sylvain. “Tell them we’re on our way.”

Glenn left the door open, humming cheerfully to himself as he left. Felix looked ready to follow and murder him. Sylvain made some effort to sit up, trying to think of anything other than how completely mussed Felix’s hair was and the visible bite marks on his neck.

“You might want to change your shirt first,” Sylvain suggested and fought a grin as Felix slapped his hand to his neck. He wondered if Felix flushed all the way down his chest.

* * *

It was still cold out. Icy winds and no humidity meant the chill was even starting to get to Sylvain. He remedied this by wrapping his arms around Felix and trying to soak in his body heat—it didn’t really work between the layers, but still.

“Can’t believe you actually wanted to see the stables,” Felix muttered, leaning back into his embrace.

“It's baby horses, what’s not to like?” Sylvain said, pressing his lips to Felix’s ears—they were freezing cold. He tried to warm them up with his breath. “Everyone likes babies.”

Felix muttered something under his breath, too low for even Sylvain to catch.

“What was that?”

Felix huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. They walked towards the stables, extremely awkwardly since they were still huddled together. “We could be in my room right now. My _warm_ room,” he added.

Sylvain had all through dinner to think about that. At first he had the same opinion Felix did—why _not_ be in Felix’s room on Felix’s bed getting to muss up Felix’s everything again? But the more he thought about it the more it felt… inadequate. They’d have to rush through to not get interrupted or sneak around late at night being really quiet. That wasn’t good enough for Felix.

“Can I court you?” Sylvain asked. “Properly.”

“That stuff is so stupid,” Felix said, straddling the edge of whining. 

“I gathered,” Sylvain said, wryly.

He’d asked his mother about it while they were switching out the courses. Apparently he’d have to submit in writing officially to make his ‘intentions known’ and then he’d have an excuse to see Felix whenever he wanted, presuming everyone approved. The Fraldariuses didn’t _seem_ like the types to care about his sordid savage history of being a war hostage. He thought maybe they liked him? Glenn even seemed to loosen up at dinner, focusing on tormenting Felix rather than threatening Sylvain.

“Does that mean no?”

“Why do you want to?” Felix asked instead of answering.

It was easier to say now. It didn’t pop out of his mouth unexpectedly, it was a thought Sylvain kept with him often—especially through the long, lonely carriage rides through noble territories filled with people who were not Felix. “Because I love you,” he said.

Felix’s ears were already red, so it was hard to tell if he was flushed from that or the cold. Sylvain tried not to drop the heavy stuff even in letters—he wanted to give Felix all the time he needed to get there, but it was relevant. Still… “If it makes you uncomfortable you can say no.”

“I know I can say no,” Felix muttered, petulant. He didn’t, however, say no. “Do they do that in Sreng?”

Sylvain laughed. He turned them slightly so that the frigid breeze hit his back instead of Felix’s front. “No, they don’t do that in Sreng.”

Felix looked up at him. “What do they do then?”

Sylvain stopped their walk, needing to think about that for a second. It gave him the added benefit of Felix turning around in arms and practically burrowing into his jacket for warmth. Sylvain readjusted his hold, pulling him in tighter. “If you want to marry into another clan, you have to get permission from both clan-leaders, but no one ever says no.”

Felix was weirdly silent at that. Sylvain wasn’t sure why, but all his guesses made his stomach sink a little.

Sylvain couldn’t pull him in any closer, but squeezed his arms tighter and kissed his forehead. “I can make up a story about mud pits and fights for bridal rights if that sounds more interesting?”

Felix snorted against Sylvain’s neck. “No. It’s…” He shivered. “Can we talk about this inside?”

Sylvain had no issue with that, except the way Felix was plastered to him made it difficult to walk. The stables were close enough to see, so instead of reasonably pointing that out to Felix, he hoisted him up by his thighs, enjoying the surprised yelp Felix made in response. He didn’t make Sylvain put him down, only adjusted so his arms were slung around Sylvain’s neck for support. It was definitely a different feel than when he’d picked him up when they were kids. Sylvain carried him like that until they were at the stables. The wooden enclosure—probably with some sort of magical charm—kept most of the chill out.

Felix’s face was peppered red and blotchy from the cold and embarrassment. “I can _walk_.”

Sylvain shrugged, unapologetically and resisted the urge to look further into the stables to see if the foals were nearby. “You were saying?”

Felix’s mouth shifted and then he frowned at the ground. “Did you court anyone in Sreng?”

“No,” Sylvain said, easily.

Felix was still giving the floor a dirty look. “So no one’s… waiting?”

Sylvain sighed, unable to stop himself from thinking of Eeija, Chabi, and Bayan. They were probably all sitting down to eat over the fire by now. This time of year the clan was bound to be moving outward since the weather would be better and game would be more spread out. He wouldn’t be there for the first hunt of spring.

“No one like that,” Sylvain said. He cupped Felix’s face in his hands, wishing he’d taken his gloves off first and gently lifted Felix’s head so his glare could be directed upwards. “What’s bothering you?”

There was a crinkle between Felix’s brows that he used to get when he was little and frustrated. It was there now. “I haven’t… this isn’t how it works, usually.”

“Okay, how does it work?”

Felix bit his lower lip in a way that made Sylvain want to bite it too, but he resisted. “I don’t _like_ the people that try to court me. They also usually don’t ask me, they just send a letter of intent to my parents.”

Sylvain felt his smile stretch out over his face, as all his earlier guesses were proved wrong. “Happy to be an exception then.”

“It’s new,” Felix said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Felix had openly admitted he liked him. There was no way to stop smiling after that. Even when Sylvain said, “If you want to slow down we can do that too.”

“No,” Felix said, stubbornly. “I still want to have sex—just not… here.”

“The stables or your house?” Sylvain asked and laughed at the look Felix gave him. Then he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him. “Can you trust me to take care of it?”

Felix wasn’t making eye contact, but he’d chased after Sylvain’s lips with his own. “Fine.”

Sylvain kissed him again, but didn’t let it get out of hand this time. He actually did want to see the foals.

* * *

It wasn’t exactly Felix’s birthday. Sylvain soon found out that _officially_ courting someone was a headache. The letter was fine—he’d even asked his mother to help draft it and her delight in being asked made him feel… guilty maybe—he wasn’t sure. But once the letter was written it had go through both sets of parents. His father didn’t object outright, but was annoyed that Sylvain was ‘starting up so soon’ after coming home. Based on the way the Margrave kept postulating about the different ways they’d need to approach getting heirs if it went further than courting—Sylvain suspected his real issue wasn’t it being ‘too soon.’

Adding to that, the weather was still terrible even after his official intent had been submitted and accepted, so it wasn’t until the next month that Sylvain was able to put his plan into place. The official story was that Felix was going to show Sylvain around Fraldarius lands, specifically ones not up against the Gautier border. It was a tour that would take a couple of days, so they had to book an inn to stay at.

“If you keep expecting they’re going to bite you, they’re going to bite you,” Felix told him, as they handed the horses off to the stablehand.

“They bit me when I wasn’t expecting it too,” Sylvain said, taking Felix’s hand. He blustered a little, but didn’t let go or pull back. “I need practice,” Sylvain said. “Maybe we can try riding up the coast tomorrow?”

“It’s different riding on the beach,” Felix said, he was looking down as they walked. “But yeah, we could do that.”

“I don’t remember you liking horses,” Sylvain said. He knew they’d all gotten lessons young, even if he could barely remember his own. In Sreng all the horses ran free. Camels weren’t the same and his training with one of the high north clans riding caribou stags had been infrequent, since he only saw them during quorums.

“I don’t dislike them,” Felix said. He didn’t seem to get upset anymore when Sylvain brought up the childhood memories Sylvain had that Felix might not—which was nice, considering it was most of Sylvain’s thought process when he was around him. “It’s better than carriage rides.”

Sylvain groaned, remembering the torment of the tour. “My butt is still numb from all that damn travel. If I could’ve gotten away with it, I would’ve walked.”

“Wouldn’t have been as efficient,” Felix pointed out, but he was smiling a little, looking up at him now. His eyes sharp and teasing.

The inn they were staying at had a small dining area. Sylvain let Felix go ahead, while he finalized arrangements with the innkeeper. Felix had ordered the spiciest thing on the menu already, but graciously let Sylvain pick the main course. They ended up eating the fried fish and tomato first—and Sylvain didn’t hate it. The spice wasn’t too bad actually.

Faerghus had been a little tasteless in comparison to what he was used to, so he overly complimented the chef to the point where Felix pleaded with him to stop. The sautéed pheasant and eggs was a little bit more Faerghus-y but still not bad. Sylvain’s offhand joke about Felix finding something with vegetables he’d actually eat got a piece of cabbage thrown at him.

“Sure you don’t want a drink or dessert or something?” Sylvain asked as they headed towards their room.

Felix shook his head, but wasn’t really making eye contact with him. He was never great at eye contact, but right now Sylvain could tell it was because he was anxious.

Sylvain wrapped an arm around Felix and murmured in his ear. “It’s still okay if you want to slow down.”

“I don’t,” Felix said.

Sylvain did not show his relief, but he definitely felt it. For one thing, the next part would’ve been really awkward if he’d answered differently.

“Close your eyes,” Sylvain said.

Felix frowned at him. “Why?”

“You said you’d trust me,” Sylvain reminded him.

Felix crinkled his nose but sighed and did as asked, closing his eyes. Sylvain lead him into the room. Considering he’d only had a day to write ahead, Sylvain was pleased with how it came out.

“Can I open them now?” Felix asked, impatiently.

Sylvain closed the door behind them. “Yes.”

Sylvain watched intently as Felix opened his eyes. Sometimes Felix was hard to read, he was more closed off now and harder to get a handle on, but then there were times like this where it was like they were kids again and every emotion showed on his face. Felix drew his gaze around the room to the small candles and yellow flowers that were strewn everywhere. It wasn’t an exact replica of the masquerade gardens, but it was definitely close enough for Felix to figure it out what he was going for.

Felix didn’t say anything, appearing to be overwhelmed, a face he used to make before he’d start crying. He didn’t cry, instead, Felix looked up at Sylvain and said, “This is a fire hazard.”

Sylvain smiled at him and Felix looked away from him, biting his lip. Then he took a short little breath and turned back towards Sylvain, reaching up more slowly than he usually did and lifting up to meet Sylvain’s lips with his own.

Sylvain took his time kissing Felix. It was softer—not tentative, but gentle and unhurried. Sylvain was careful, brushing his thumbs against the sides of Felix’s jaw and pressing small kisses to the corners of his mouth. The featherweight touch of his lips against the feel of Felix’s own. Felix still had the faint taste of dinner and smelled like the leather coat he’d been draped in for the whole ride, plus whatever citrus thing he used for his hair.

The ambiance aside, they hadn’t kissed like this at the masquerade. Felix hadn’t known who he was and Sylvain hadn’t known how badly and for how long he’d wanted to kiss him. That had been harried, flustered, and pretty much perfect—this was different. A different kind of perfect.

When Felix twisted his hands in Sylvain’s shirt, drawing him forward—Sylvain took the hint and did likewise, pressing the flat of his palm against the curve of Felix’s lower back to pull him closer. Felix’s breath hitched, barely audible, but enough to open his mouth and be properly kissed again, deepening it with each brush of his tongue against Felix’s own. Sylvain worked his free hand into the tie in Felix’s hair. He’d cut it recently, so it only landed on his shoulders, but Sylvain still found plenty of citrus scented strands to run his fingers through.

They stayed like that for a while, the warm light of the candles painting the room in the same yellows as the flowers scattered throughout.

“You want to go to bed?” Sylvain asked finally, surprised at the husk of his own voice. It was like Felix drew out all the air from his lungs.

Felix nodded—the kissing and touching continued with more focus, until they were sprawled across the bedspread, freed from their tops. Felix’s flush _did_ reach all the way down his chest, Sylvain was delighted to find out. Even if he couldn’t see the full extent of it in the candlelight.

The skin was pale where it wasn’t pinked. Sylvain dragged his fingers over the planes of Felix’s chest, scraping the back of his thumb lightly against his nipple. Felix pretty much mewled and Sylvain couldn’t help a soft chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Felix muttered.

“You’re very cute, you know that?” Sylvain said in response. He pinched his thumb and forefinger around the nub this time and got an even louder noise out of Felix.

Felix huffed, looking away, ignoring his own reaction. “I’m not _cute._ ”

“Handsome, beautiful, perfect,” Sylvain offered in suggestion.

By the third one, Felix had turned back toward him and covered his mouth with his hand. He glared half-heartedly when Sylvain chuckled again.

Felix looked at Sylvain, thoughtful almost, as he drew his gaze downwards, taking him in like he had the room earlier. His tongue darted out briefly and slid over his lips in a way Sylvain wanted to follow, but his mouth was still covered. When Felix did drop his hand from Sylvain’s mouth he used it to instead start touching Sylvain’s chest and stomach, exploring the skin there—dragging finger over the hard muscle. “What kind of training do you do?” Felix asked.

Sylvain raised an eyebrow, but Felix was too focused on staring at where his hands were moving to notice. “Is that a compliment or are you actually asking for details on my training regime right now?”

“Both,” Felix said, with a little smile. His hands drew up again, making Sylvain shiver. Felix paused and frowned thoughtfully as his hands reached Sylvain’s shoulder and he traced the edge of the scar there. “Where did this come from?”

“Snow leopard,” Sylvain said. Felix’s looked surprised and also wary, like he thought Sylvain was teasing him. Sylvain took the hand Felix had on his shoulder and helped his fingers find the start of the scar. “I was… eleven, I think. The weather shifted too quickly and I didn’t know better so I wasn’t paying attention that the leap near us wasn’t holing up anymore.”

“Leap?” Felix asked, still staring at the scar.

“Family of leopards,” Sylvain said. “A mother leopard and her cubs—she wasn’t really thrilled with me getting close. I do remember the cubs being cute before all the bleeding.” One side of his mouth twitched up. “Kind of like right before you kneed me.”

Felix smacked his shoulder for that, but he was fighting a smile. “That’s a lot for eleven. How’d you get out of it?”

“My adoptive sister knocked them back with a big ass stick,” Sylvain said. “It’s when I knew she wasn’t…” He cleared his throat, not really wanting to ruin the mood by mentioning his least favorite thing about Faerghus—an older sibling he didn’t miss.

Felix only paused for a second, before purposefully letting Sylvain avoid clarifying his slip. “Eeija, right?”

Sylvain nodded, grinning over the fact that he’d remembered that detail.

Felix smiled back, small and soft. Then he curled his fingers around Sylvain’s neck, drawing him closer. In a quiet, but so sincerely Felix, voice he said, “I’m glad you had someone looking out for you.”

Sylvain could do nothing but kiss him again. Felix didn’t seem to have any objection, opening his mouth to Sylvain's own explorations while his lithe fingers continued their prior trail. Felix’s fingers traced down Sylvain’s back, tapping against the edge of his shoulder blades and the knots in his spine then stopping before he reached the hem of Sylvain’s trousers.

“No claw marks down there,” Sylvain breathed—taking the pause to move his attention to scatter soft kisses on Felix’s throat.

“I know,” Felix said and then Sylvain felt him wince.

Sylvain pulled back a little and stared at him, curiously. “You know? When—” He realized very quickly when Felix could have seen and when he’d apparently studied close enough to confirm which scars Sylvain didn’t have.

A grin took over his face again, wider than the last one, and Felix groaned and turned his head away. “Shut up. Yes. I checked you out before the swim. You were basically naked.”

“I’m about to get actually naked, so I don’t know why you’re embarrassed,” Sylvain teased, as Felix’s flush overtook his face and the tips of his ears.

“It was still really stupid,” Felix said, still looking away from him. Then at Sylvain’s badly covered snort, he turned his head back with that stubborn look that only spelled doom for Sylvain. “You said you were going to get actually naked.”

No response to that, but to follow directions. Sylvain acquiesced immediately and divested himself of everything below the waist. He started to work on Felix too, thumbs easing his pants off his hips—though Felix seemed unable to stop looking down at the newly revealed skin he hadn’t had a chance to see before Loog’s Blessed Swim.He was staring so intently that he blinked in surprise when they were both stark.

Sylvain couldn’t tease him for that, because now that Felix’s legs were bared, he couldn’t stop staring either. Somehow they looked even longer like this—the muscles of his thighs, thick and dense, yet the skin was smooth and untouched.

He couldn’t really decide where to start as he stared at the stretch of newly exposed skin. It was uncharted territory and the very unevolved part of Sylvain’s brain was thrilled with the fact he was the only one getting a chance to explore it.

Sylvain shifted on the bed, moving over Felix. Felix watched him, not wary or confused, but curious and patient for once. Sylvain spread Felix’s legs a little so he had room to settle between them. He rested his hands on Felix’s hipbones while he stared up at him. Felix’s eyes were sharp and as he looked back at Sylvain, he reminded him a little bit of that snow leopard before she pounced.

That thought went straight to Sylvain's dick, but he tried to take his time here too. He wanted to enjoy this exploration. He mapped out every inch of flesh beneath him, moving from the outside to the inside of Felix’s firm thighs and then finally focusing on the heat of his arousal at the center, the molten core.

Sylvain focused his explorations there, first with his hands and then with his mouth tasting Felix here too—using each soft (and sometimes loud) little noise from Felix as guidance. He tried to stay unhurried and attentive, pressing his fingers up through the wet folds and following again with his tongue.

“Sylva _in_ ,” Felix pleaded, muffled. Sylvain could bet he was biting his lower lip, but was too focused on exploring the hard nub, the compass of his exploration, to look up. Felix’s responding _sounds_ escaping his throat, unhindered, as well as the flex of his muscular thighs almost crushing Sylvain’s skull made it difficult to keep to a leisurely pace. He needed to hear more, taste more, get whatever he could from Felix.

Felix’s fingers twisted into Sylvain’s hair, tugging in jagged pulls that were in sync with Felix’s needy, gasped little grunts—the numb not-really pain blanketed over Sylvain’s mind and put him into a haze. He was pretty sure he could live right here—between Felix’s legs, drawing out those fitful, desperate noises and forceful pulling at his scalp—forever.

When Felix came on a shuddered low moan, his hips jerked off the bed and Sylvain did almost get his skull crushed as his thighs flexed inward, pressing hard against Sylvain’s ears.

“Sorry,” Felix said, releasing him. He was breathless and embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” Sylvain said, full of fond affection as he swept his eyes up Felix’s torso to his face. He had bitten his lip—so hard in fact that there were teeth imprints that Sylvain wanted to trace with his tongue.

Sylvain felt his smile go sharp as he took in the view of Felix’s splayed, satisfied form. “If that’s how I go out, it’ll be worth it.”

Felix groaned and covered his face with his hands, pulling Sylvain’s smile into a grin.

Sylvain didn’t move yet, content to finish tasting Felix—unable to resist nipping at the untouched thigh that had nearly suffocated him. “What’s _your_ training regime?”

“ _Sylvain_ ,” Felix whined through his fingers.

Sylvain laughed softly and then rose up on his forearms. He crawled his way back up Felix’s body, so he could peel Felix’s fingers back from his face. In the candlelight and with his pupils blown out like that Felix’s eyes looked like honeyed mead. It would be easy to get drunk on them—Sylvain was pretty sure he could live up here too if Felix gave him the chance.

“Still good?” Sylvain asked.

Felix scoffed a laugh, like that was a stupid question. “ _Yes_.” His gaze softened a little as he rested his palm over Sylvain’s jaw, brushing his thumb against the spoils of Sylvain’s travels. “Don’t you—do you want me to…” He trailed off moving his gaze to Sylvain’s mouth.

“We’ve got all night,” Sylvain said. And hopefully longer. “You can pounce on me later.”

“I’m not a cat,” Felix hissed.

Sylvain, with onerous effort, managed to swallow his laugh at that. He kissed Felix on the nose and then smiled at him, basking in the view—before he untangled himself and hopped off the bed.

“Hold on,” Sylvain replied to Felix’s grunted annoyance. He dug around in his bag, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t remembered where he put it. As soon as it was in his hands, he ungracefully hurried his way back to the bed, stretching out next to Felix.

Sylvain kissed Felix’s annoyed furrowed brow, smoothing it out. Then he kissed his lips once, and then the line of his jaw, higher until he was scraping his teeth against the spot behind Felix’s ear. The last destination made Felix’s fingers dig into his shoulders, a solid, enjoyable pain compared to his other leopard encounter. Sylvain did it again, feeling the hot breath escaping sharply with each nip of sensitive skin.

Felix had one leg over his and his nails were starting to dig into his back, when Sylvain whispered the question into the space behind Felix’s ear. Felix answered by letting go of Sylvain’s shoulders and forcefully turning his head to claim his mouth, deep, searching, more of a pillage rather than a gentle exploration.

Sylvain realized too late that they should’ve turned the bed down as oil spilled over his fingers dribbled onto the quilt and Felix’s legs. It was not the easiest to manage it one-handed, especially while Felix clung to Sylvain—occupying most of his attention with whimpered little pleas against his mouth.

Slick fingers navigated the path Sylvain had explored earlier, swirling little circles as he went up Felix’s tight thighs and then pressing against Felix’s wet entrance—it seemed to swallow up each finger like they belonged there.

Two were in, pushing past the knuckles, when Felix tensed with the low edge of a gasp. Sylvain withdrew his fingers carefully, stroking over Felix’s hip instead and used his other hand to gently nudge Felix’s gaze towards him. “Hey,” Sylvain said, softly, “We can—”

“I’m not fragile,” Felix said, cutting him off. He was still a little tense, as he shot a challenging glare. “Its just nerves.”

Felix wasn’t fragile, but as strong as he was, he was also delicate—something Sylvain wanted to treasure and savor, however long or slow Felix needed. “It’ll hurt if you’re not relaxed.”

Felix nodded once, before he took a deep breath in. His body seemed to relax, growing incrementally looser and more pliant. He reached for the vial of oil and took it from Sylvain, slicking his own hand, before reaching down. Felix’s long graceful fingers wrapped around Sylvain’s length—the slip of the oil moving them easily up and down.

Sylvain breathed out, pressing his forehead to Felix’s shoulder and counted backwards from 100, because— _fuck_. Felix held him like he handled a sword hilt—firm and graceful, with dexterous precision.

“I’ve mentioned you’re dangerous, right?” Sylvain said, finally, when he adjusted to the feel of it enough to not fall completely apart at the seams.

Felix huffed a laugh, pleased. “Yes.”

Sylvain didn’t have to move much so that he was settled between Felix’s legs again, this time with his own. He kissed Felix, slow and languid, savoring the way his body melted underneath him. Sylvain thought about how much he liked Felix’s kind of danger—as he drew back Felix’s hand and entered him slowly and careful.

Felix didn’t tense this time. Instead as the heat of him surrounded Sylvain, he lifted one strong leg at a time to encircle Sylvain’s waist, sheathing him fully inside. It felt like Felix was surrounding every part of him, like he could be wrapped up in him so tightly they’d never part again.

“I love you,” spilled out of Sylvain, because he couldn’t help it—fumbling to press the words to Felix’s mouth. Felix gave no indication if he’d heard him or not, but he did start to writhe beneath him, hips moving in addicting little shifts, beckoning Sylvain to start moving too.

He started slow again, but like kissing Felix it was difficult to stay that way for long. Sylvain didn’t and couldn’t set the pace. Felix’s back arched as his hips started moving, pushing back to meet Sylvain each time he thrust forward and encouraging him to pick up the pace and match him.

Felix’s long and drawn out moans sounded even better pressed against Sylvain’s neck. His fingers did feel like claws this time as they dug into Sylvain’s skin. The glide and grind of their bodies, pressed as flush together as they could be, kept intensifying—it took everything in Sylvain to keep going. That well of reserve where he’d held the stamina to stay below the freezing water was the only thing keeping Sylvain from going under now.

Sylvain hand gripped Felix’s ass and then moved to pull his thigh higher so he could angle his next thrust, hitting deeper to draw out fitful harried grunts from both of them. He kept Felix lifted, while his other hand traversed its way over every inch of skin in front, its last port—the stiff nub of Felix’s arousal. Sylvain thrummed his fingers against it and captured the perfect needy whimpers of Felix’s mouth with his own.

This time when Felix came, he pulsated with it—legs tightening like a vice around Sylvain from the outside, while the tight heat of him clenched Sylvain inside—a shuddering pressure took over his entire body until Sylvain followed him. It was like a flash of bright snowfall behind his eyes—nothing but white.

Sylvain very ungracefully flopped forward over Felix, dazed.

If he was crushing Felix, Felix wasn’t complaining. Instead, Felix rubbed the palms of his hands and pads of his fingers over the claw marks he’d left on Sylvain’s back. Once both of their breathing started to even out, Sylvain slipped out. He stretched alongside Felix’s body and shifted enough to wrap around him and bury his face in Felix’s neck.

The room smelled like those yellow flowers, but the even better scent of sweat, skin, and sex was pressed against Sylvain’s nose—he’d never been more at ease.

At least he thought, until very quietly Felix said, almost like a question, “Sylvain.” And before Sylvain could respond, Felix said as quietly, without any hint of question, “I love you too.”

Sylvain lifted his head so he could see Felix. He wasn't sure if he could smile, because he’d gone past happy and was now floating somewhere even farther than elated. It was like every part of his body was headed towards the ceiling to chase after his heart.

“Do you want to come visit Sreng with me?” Sylvain asked, before he’d even thought the words in his head.

Felix looked more curious than confused. “When?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain said. He could barely think straight at the moment—but he was overcome with the urge to make this _really_ official. “I want you to meet my family.”

Felix’s smile was bright enough to put the candlelight to shame. It lit up the entire room. His nod was small, but enthusiastic. “I’d like that.”

Sylvain kissed him again. Kept kissing him until it felt like his lips were going to fall off from the effort and then drew Felix as close as he could by the small of his back, kicking the quilt down enough to get under the covers. Felix was all pliant limbs, relaxed, and happy next to him, but then frowned as he looked up around the room.

“There are like… fifty fucking candles in here that we need to put out.”

Sylvain grumbled, resisting the urge to even make a joke about it being a good place to die—he had too much to look forward to even joke. “They’ll burn out eventually.”

Felix shoved him off, fighting a smile as Sylvain was the one who whined this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, Hanna gave Felix _that talk_ like three years ago and a refresher after Sylvain left. 
> 
> I'm @waffle_fancy on twitter. All comments & kudos greatly appreciated! I cannot say how much the encouragement for the prior piece is the only reason I had the energy to do the follow-up. You guys are awesome. <3


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